


I May Be Rude (And Five) But I'm the Truth

by orphan_account



Series: Lullabye [16]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Gen, M/M, ageshifting, i'm always so lost to tag this tbh, moreee cuteness, not ageplay, suspended disbelief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-18 02:32:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5894662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a park, a creepy guy named Paul, not that his name is really relevant, and a jealous guy named Patrick who is sometimes five but usually older.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I May Be Rude (And Five) But I'm the Truth

**Author's Note:**

> me @ myself: stop making bad cobra starship puns!!!  
> also me: Cobras never say stop making bad cobra starship puns  
> once again I'm sleep deprived in favour of pastel gay™ so enjoy this ;) thanks for all the support, i'm taking prompts again but there will be a delay but I love you all too much not to accept all your cute prompts :)

 

Pete was leaning back on the now familiar bench, watching Patrick attempt the monkey bars - and repeatedly fail because his arms were both too weak to hold him up and too short to reach the next rung - when a guy sidled up next to him. Someone who was terrified to order coffee, Pete stiffened at the sudden close presence. He repeated to himself that it was just a stranger who didn't have anywhere else to sit, and it was all going to be fine, when the guy turned to breathe in his ear.

"That your kid?" he asked, in the voice of every movie kidnapper and murderer ever, when Patrick turned to wave proudly at Pete from the fifth rung and lost his grip once again. Pete didn't move. "Cute kid," the guy said again. It wasn't the way people normally adored Patrick, that made Pete glow with pride. The way he said it made Pete want to run in front of Patrick and never let this guy so much as look at him again.

At Pete's failure to reply, the guy's hand came to a rest on Pete's thigh. Pete flinched.  
"I can see where he got it from," The guy looked about forty, "I bet you're a good _daddy_ ," he smirked. A pink tongue darted out to lick his lips as he considered making some obvious remark about _Pete_ calling someone else daddy. Pete _liked_ when Patrick licked his lips. Liked how it made them red and shiny, how he always did it when he was nervous with a shy glance at Pete for reassurance, how he didn't even notice he was doing it.

Pete _hated_ this guy licking his lips. Wanted to be sick, at the way the guy did it, eyes darting between Pete and Patrick. Making it on the local hardcore scene, he'd dealt with a lot of these guys, but directed at Patrick their actions always made his skin crawl; not to mention the fact that he was currently a fucking _five year old_ \- that was a special kind of creepy.

"I'm Paul."  
"...Pete."  
The guy licked his lips again, inching closer. Pete covertly gagged.  
"Patrick," he called out hesitantly, hating how his voice broke halfway through. When Patrick didn't hear him, he called again, almost shaking with he feeling of the guy's gaze on him. Patrick dropped down from his position on the third rung, and came running up to Pete.

" _What_?" He sounded annoyed at being disrupted.  
"We have to go, baby," Pete mumbled, not even trying to stick to the carefully platonic pet names he usually did in public. Patrick folded his arms and Pete groaned internally, wishing just once that Patrick could read a situation and not make a huge _shitstorm_ about it.  
"But you said-" he started.  
"I know," Pete hissed, "But I just remembered that you have your, _thing_. Remember?"

Following Pete's drop of voice, Patrick whispered loudly, "What thing?"  
"Your _thing_! Your... dentist appointment," Pete lied exasperatedly.  
Oblivious, Patrick just looked puzzled. "I don't go to the dentist when I'm-"

As a last resort, Pete tried to subtly indicate his bench-mate with his eyes. Come to think of it, Pete hadn't seen a kid come in with him. What kind of person, Pete wondered, came to hang out at play parks without a kid?  
Patrick ignored his frantic eye motions, lost in his own tantrum, but then his eyes happened to catch on the grip the other guy still had on _his_ Pete's thigh.

Pete didn't know whether to feel relieved or terrified, as Patrick's arms unfolded and he stood up straighter to try and look taller. Pretty hopeless against someone ten times his age, but sweet. "Could you move your hand please," he growled, but it was definitely not a question.  
The guy laughed. "What's that, baby boy?"  
Patrick flinched at the name used only by Pete and occasionally his mom, and Pete loved that he took even less shit when he was small than he did usually.

"You don't call me that, you creepy weirdo, and take your hand off my fia- friend, _please_." It was the weird dude's turn to flinch, pulling his hand back. Looking smug, Patrick climbed into Pete's lap and shuffled backwards until his back was pressed against Pete's chest. He spun around for reassurance and saw Pete's look of pride.  
Creepy Paul apparently wasn't done because he was leering at Patrick in a way that made Pete clutch him tighter in some futile attempt to block his gaze.

"This place is for kids, and you shouldn't be here without one. Pete is engaged to someone else," Patrick's cheeks glowed happily at that, "And he's not interested in you, and neither is anyone around here, so please stop hanging around kids' places or my friend will call the police. C'mon, Petey, let's go," he said breezily.

Pete and Paul wore matching goldfish like expressions of shock as Patrick hopped down and started walking away, pausing to wait for Pete. With a final glance at Creepy Paul, Pete shrugged and followed his tiny saviour out of the park. He caught up to Patrick and laughed, swinging him up into bridal style and smothering his pink face with adoring kisses.

"You are so awesome, Patrick, I love you I love you I _love_ you, that was amazing! I swear, I was so scared I like, sweated through my shirt, and oh my god that dude was so freaky, and you just appeared like my little boy wonder and saved me from being kidnapped or something, _I love you_. Want an ice cream, or something? You can have _ten_ if you want, I'll buy you so many ice creams if you want them."

Patrick shrugged shyly, hiding his face in Pete's shirt. He took these sudden bashful turns sometimes, a sign Pete had learned to read and be careful with him. He squeezed Patrick tighter, hoisting him up to a more comfortable angle. "Thank you, baby," He said softly. "You're so- I'm really grateful to you, always, because I'm a terrible mess and you always save me."

" _My_ mess," Patrick sighed softly into Pete's shirt, tired and subdued after his big standoff. Pete kissed his head gently and ruffled the spot as he pulled away. "Dunno why you _want_ it but yeah, your mess."

"I want it because... it gives me ice cream?" Patrick looked up hopefully.  
"And here I was, all touched, and you're just here for the ice cream." Patrick nodded, giggling, but his huge blue eyes swelled with love when Pete bent to kiss his nose.

"Liar," Pete hissed, mostly to mask his hoarse, choked up voice. "You love me."  
Patrick looked pointedly down at where the chain around his neck, holding his engagement ring, had slipped out from under his shirt, with that wise look in his eyes that made it obvious he wasn't just a five year old. "Yeah."

  
***

  
Pete woke up in the night and he could hear breathing, but couldn't immediately feel or see a Patrick, and in replacement of actually moving, he just hissed, "Shit," and waited for a pinch to tell him which Patrick was in his bed. There wasn't a pinch, just a sleepy moan, so Pete groaned, "Riiiick, I can't sleep, I need my baby to help me get back to sleep."

"You're not an R&B singer, Pete, so don't refer to me as your baby ever again," Patrick whined sleepily.

"Hm, I liked that bitchy mouth more when it was aimed at Creepy Paul."

Patrick rolled over to touch noses with his boyfriend.  
"Pete, I'm going to stop you before you say anything else about where my mouth could be aimed, because I'm not doing that while thinking about Creepy Paul. Come here," he muttered, pulling Pete against him, "I'll spoon you if you fucking shut _up_. This is turning into fucking... what's that French phrase, its like the madness of two, where you go crazy from being around a crazy person too long. I'm going to develop insomnia from you always waking me up."

"I dunno, Rick, look it up in the morning. Sounds interesting though, you should..." the last bit was lost to Pete's exhausted mind, so he just faded out and fell back against Patrick's chest. It was  
so tacky, but he still couldn't always believe his own luck.


End file.
